He steadied his breath, guiding a gentle fire beneath the cauldron.
Around him, herbs were tossed, flames flared, and smoke spiralled as disciples struggled through the basics.
Herb by herb, Chu Feng's movements were smooth and precise. His control far exceeded that of a beginner.
The instructor blinked, thinking, "He handles fire like a third-year alchemist…"
Then Chu Feng made a single subtle mistake, one only an experienced alchemist would notice: he compressed the medicinal essence too tightly.
A faint tremor ran through the cauldron.
"…Hmm?"
A tiny cracking sound echoed.
The instructor's expression shifted instantly.
BOOOOOM!
A brilliant plume of smoke shot upward.
A mild shockwave rippled across the room.
Disciples shrieked and ducked.
Dust rained down like powdered snow.
And Chu Feng?
He stood there.
Perfectly still.
Covered head to toe in soot, hair blown slightly upward from the blast, yet posture upright and expression calm, like an elegant statue simply given a charcoal finish.
The room froze.
Then the squeals began.
"Ahhh! Even exploded, he looks so graceful!"
"He didn't even flinch!"
"Look! Look! Even the soot can't hide his aura!"
"He looks… smouldering."
"Literal smouldering."
The one guy in the room scoffed loudly.
"Tch. What's so impressive about not crying after a pill blow-up? Anyone with thick skin can"
A girl beside him elbowed him so hard he nearly coughed blood.
"How dare you talk about Brother Feng like that!"
The instructor sighed inwardly.
Why is this turning into a fan club meeting?
Chu Feng touched his cheek, feeling the soot, and exhaled.
"…It seems I compressed the energies too tightly," he said, bringing out a napkin to clean himself.
The instructor hurried over.
"You refined too steadily. Beginners should not attempt to suppress medicinal essence too much with pure spiritual sense; it builds pressure unevenly."
Chu Feng bowed slightly.
"Thank you for the guidance."
He reset the cauldron.
Without fanfare or complaints, without worrying about appearances, he simply began again.
This time, his flame was gentler.
His spiritual sense, lighter.
His control eased.
The room hushed in anticipation.
Minutes passed.
Then—
Ding.
A faint sound.
A small, pale-blue pill rolled gently to the base of the cauldron.
Perfect shape.
Perfect fragrance.
The instructor stiffened.
"That's… nearly high-grade quality. On your second try?"
Whispers surged through the room.
"He's a monster…"
"Success on the second attempt…"
"Brother Feng is too powerful!"
Chu Feng simply nodded.
"I will continue to practice."
The girls sighed in unison.
The lone guy groaned.
The instructor wondered whether she was teaching a prodigy or accidentally starting a sect-wide riot.
But Chu Feng continued refining—calm, steady, and focused.
The explosion had not embarrassed him.
It had motivated him.
And that alone made all the girls fall even deeper.
Day after day, the smell of herbs lingered on Chu Feng's clothes.
Another cauldron cooled before him—this time perfectly intact, a faint medicinal fragrance spiralling upward. The pill resting inside glowed with a soft, clean light.
A proper grade-1 pill, smooth and flawless.
He exhaled softly.
It had taken countless failures, several explosions, and a classroom full of girls shamelessly praising him even when he was covered in soot… but he had finally crossed the threshold.
He was officially an alchemist.
He closed the cauldron and stored the pill in a pill bottle, placing it carefully into his ring.
"I've stayed long enough."
His voice was calm and steady, completely unlike the boy who once trembled at the thought of killing.
Jìn Bǎo had already left two days earlier, following their discussion.
Yu Lianxue and Yu Lianyan departed a few days after that, leaving behind only a faint floral fragrance in their courtyard and a lingering warmth in the air.
Chu Feng did not go to see them off.
He chose not to.
He had already promised he would meet them again at the Five-Year Ranking Battle.
No farewells were needed.
Because he intended to walk forward, not look back.
He stepped out of the Alchemy Pavilion and walked the quiet path toward Azure Peak, carrying only the bare essentials.
Just before dawn, he stood at the base of the mountain—no witnesses, no audience, no lingering attachments.
He looked toward the far northern horizon.
The sky was still dark, but a thread of silver light pierced the clouds.
"The Northern Border," he whispered.
"A place where life is cheap, and strength alone speaks."
His hand rested unconsciously on his chest, the place where his master's talisman had once lain before being activated.
"Master, I understand."
If he was too soft, he would die.
If he was too kind, others would use it against him.
If he wanted to carve his name into the heavens…
He needed to temper his edge.
With a single step, he left the sect.
He did not look back.
The path to the Northern Border stretched endlessly. Mountains rose sharply, winding rivers cut through valleys, ravines were carved by beasts, and plains lay scorched from long-forgotten battles.
Chu Feng travelled swiftly but with caution.
His consciousness, now at the Second Realm, spread naturally around him like a thin veil. He could sense disturbances dozens of meters away: small ripples of qi, malicious intent, and the movement of beasts beneath the soil.
This realm of consciousness was rare for someone his age.
Most cultivators only awakened the First Realm in their mid-twenties.
Reaching the second realm meant his awareness cut through illusions and even detected spiritual residue left in the wind.
It made the vast wilderness less threatening.
On the first day, a pack of Windrazor Wolves chased him for half an hour.
On the third, he passed through a foggy marsh.
The fifth day of travel brought Chu Feng into the remnants of an ancient battlefield.
Snow had not yet claimed this land.
Instead, broken swords jutted out of the earth like a forest of metal gravestones. Armour pieces lay half-buried, blood stains dried so deeply into the soil that even time could not erase them. A faint red mist drifted between the rusted steel, resentment so thick that a frail mind would fracture within minutes.